


Gliding Toward Dawn

by Allekha



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dancing, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Grand Prix Final Banquet, Mention of canon dog death, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-28 22:06:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17191169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allekha/pseuds/Allekha
Summary: Yuuri gets yelled at in a bathroom in Sochi by Yuri Plisetsky after his short program, instead of after his free skate.It's surprisingly helpful in motivating him to skate better the next day.





	Gliding Toward Dawn

Getting to the GPF had been surreal. Skating alongside the likes of Chris and Cao – and, finally, Victor – was like a dream. Actually skating had been a nightmare.

The only jump that had gone well in his short program was his trusty triple axel. He'd ruined his opening combination, turning the quad into a very sloppy triple with no chance of the second jump happening, and he'd barely managed to tack a double onto his last jump instead. He'd fallen on one of his mid-program _steps_ , of all things. His step sequence had probably been terrible. Yuuri didn't know for sure; he'd been skating in shock by then, blindly trying to keep the program together and forcing a smile on his face.

He'd cried in the kiss-and-cry, trying to hide it behind his tissues and acutely aware of the cameras trained on his face. Celestino had tried to console him. That didn't make the blurry numbers of his score hurt any less.

He was crying now, too, locked in a bathroom stall. Stupid. He'd thought so well of himself for a moment, there, because he'd finally made it to the GPF, and then he'd bombed it the first chance he got. One couldn't win anything off a short program like that. He'd be lucky to drag himself out of last place. And he already knew that luck wasn't going to happen, because he was already trying to calculate if he could change his layout, thinking about what he could possibly do, the invisible pressure of trying to make up for that awful performance already mounting on his shoulders.

Someone else entered the bathroom, and a moment later, Yuuri was startled out of his tears by a loud banging sound on the door of his stall. In a daze, he unlocked it, and came face-to-face with a tiny blond kid with a scowl and a tacky hoodie.

Yuuri didn't follow juniors, except the Japanese ones he might see at Nationals, but it was impossible not to have heard of Yuri Plisetsky. He trained with Victor, after all. There was still a childishness to his skating, and he didn't do quads yet, but there was no doubt that he was going to be a fierce competitor some day.

But why was he—

Yuri sneered, and suddenly he didn't seem so little.

"What kind of loser cries in a bathroom after skating? The competition's not even over, dumbass, but you should just withdraw anyway and go retire. I'm gonna be in seniors next year, and we don't need two Yuris in the same roster with you dragging down the name." Yuuri stared at him, stared as Yuri's lip curled and he leaned into shout into Yuuri's face, stared as he walked away like the matter was settled.

What?

As unpleasant as being screamed at had been, he kind of wanted to laugh. Wow, how did Yakov Feltsman put up with such a rude kid? How did Victor? (But Victor always seemed to be nice to everyone.) Retire? Withdraw? A little kid who couldn't yet do an elegant step sequence, whose spins traveled too much, who hadn't even experienced real senior competition yet, was telling him to withdraw over one bad program because he was possessive over his _name_?

The competition wasn't over yet. That much was true.

Yuuri blinked at the far wall, then wandered over to the sink. His brain was still cycling the image of Yuri yelling at him as he washed his face and dried it, then as he went to find Celestino.

Celestino tried to distract him – he'd learned that Yuuri, left to his own devices, could either bounce back or spiral hard. Yuuri barely heard a word he said during dinner, though. _Go retire_ , huh. Just when he'd finally reached the GPF. Just like that. In what world? Really. What did a kid like him know?

He was so calm at the next practice that it scared him a little. Like he'd overloaded so much on anxiety that his brain had reset. He felt like he was floating, and for a few minutes, he put off doing his jumps, before he started with a tiny thing that wouldn't have counted for anything. When he landed that just fine, he turned and did his axel.

Landing that made him feel even better. Still – kind of blank, not really thinking. Maybe it was a good thing? It seemed to be working; he felt fine during his run-through, and Celestino looked relieved. Afterward, he landed his quad toe loop several times, even the salchow that always troubled him. He impulsively did one of Victor's trademark axel combos along the boards for fun, not one he'd use in competition. The fans sitting in the front row recognized it, and laughed and clapped for him. Chris, passing by, raised an eyebrow and shot him a smile.

Victor was in the middle of his own run-through. The program was beautiful and heart-rending and more complex than anything Yuuri had ever done. Naturally, he hadn't noticed Yuuri copying him. That was for the best. It probably would have shattered Yuuri's newfound calm.

"There's the Yuuri we know," Celestino said when he came to the boards. He was smiling.

After the practice, there were hours left to go before they would skate for real. Yuuri turned off his phone. He didn't need reassurances from Phichit, supportive messages from his family and friends, the pictures of Vicchan he'd been crying over for two days now. He went and took a nap.

The warm-up went fine. Yuuri was still surprised to find that he didn't feel particularly much of anything as he went to Celestino afterward. No heartbeat pounding in his chest, no struggles to keep his breath in check. He did feel some tears prick at his eyes when he saw his tissue box, patterned in little poodles. _Vicchan_.

But he couldn't bring Vicchan back no matter what he did. Even if he had withdrawn and flown straight back to Japan. He could still make this worth something, maybe. Give the party his family was probably hosting a performance to watch. He could apologize to Vicchan later.

"Alright, Yuuri," said Celestino. "You're looking good today. Feeling okay?"

"I guess." He picked up a tissue and pushed it to his face, then blew his nose and reached for his water bottle. The drink helped ease the tightness in his throat. He wanted the announcer to call his name already.

Celestino patted his shoulder. "Let's see you dance your way up the standings," he said, just as the announcer started to say her line.

Yuuri was good at dancing. At least he had that.

His mind went pleasantly blank as he took his starting position. He liked this program better than the short, anyway. It was better for showing off. Smooth movements across the ice, first jumping pass – he landed it as surely as he ever did, nice.

More jumps, his first spin – and then this was his favorite part of all: the song lit up, and he threw himself into the music. He'd watched the commentary on his programs before; he knew that he had good step sequences. Commentators liked to linger on them, since there were nicer things to say there than about the jumps, usually. _Look at his speed_ , they would say, or, _he gets fantastic ice coverage_ , sometimes _his edges are so sharp and clear_. _Musicality_ got thrown around a lot.

The steps of this program had never felt so fast as they did tonight, or so in tune with the music. Distantly, he heard something else, too – oh, clapping. Cheering. The commentators better say something good about this, he thought, as he did a sharp, graceful turn near the judges, smiling. Mentally, he dared them not to give him +3 GOE for this.

He came out of the steps and landed a combo that had the crowd screaming again. It was followed by a cool little movement that Yuuri had come up with himself, something that just _felt_ like the music to him, from his toes to his finger tips.

Even his spins felt in tune with the the song tonight. There were days when he panicked and lost count of the rotations in each position, but tonight he ticked them off with no trouble, one, two, three, change, right on the beat, as the world flew around him.

Every movement flowed smoothly from one to the next, his body moving like it knew exactly what to do, and then he was folding into one last pose. Oh. It was over. Yuuri stared at the bright lights far above and felt himself panting, but it was like he was floating again. Lightheaded. He could barely remember the last few minutes. He'd landed his jumps, right?

It took a moment to realize that the entire audience was on its feet. Huh. That didn't happen too often. Not for him.

Yuuri took his bows and skated back to the boards, barely dodging Michael in time as he came out. "Yuuri," said Celestino, and then he stopped. Yuuri saw him swallow, and he realized that _Celestino_ was getting choked up. ...huh. He'd done more than okay, then.

Yuuri smiled at him as he came off the ice. A small group of Japanese fans shouted his name, danging a big sushi plushie from the stands above; he caught it and smiled at them, too. (He was thankful it wasn't a dog. He wasn't sure he could handle that right now.)

Celestino passed him flowers in the kiss-and-cry and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Like after the short, but this time shaking him with excitement instead of trying to make him feel better. Watching the replays from the program on the big screen made everything start to hit – yes, he'd just done that. He'd skated the way he'd always wanted to skate, the way he'd always dreamed of skating when he'd imagined competing with Victor.

The tension crept back into his chest when the music cut out. There was his heart, beating wildly in his chest as the seconds of silence stretched out. He wanted his scores already so he could go resign himself to—

He couldn't see the scores, but he could hear Celestino going, "Oh my god!" The crowd clapped as loudly as they had after his performance. He could barely hear the announcement over the sound, and then he couldn't believe what it said.

A personal best. By a long shot. Maybe (and now it was excitement that had his heart going so fast he couldn't feel his fingers) even enough to medal after his disastrous short.

Withdraw. Retire. _Hah_. He kind of hoped Yuri was watching this.

Celestino hugged him. Yuuri gave a last wave to the cameras and let himself be shuffled backstage to give short interviews, but really he wanted to know what scores Michael received. What JJ received. What Cao received – if Yuuri was still in medal contention at that point. As soon as he escaped, he turned on his phone with shaking hands, ignoring his messages, and cursed the fact that the ISU website wasn't loading fast enough.

"I saw you skate," Chris called out as he walked by. "That was amazing, Yuuri!"

"Thanks," he said, looking up automatically.

"Maybe you'll be standing to my right at the end of the night." He said it with a wink. Yuuri made what was probably a weird half-smile back on reflex. Oh, right, Chris was nice, so he should say something nice back.

" _Allez_." That did the trick. Chris smiled and continued on his way, ready for his turn to skate. He was going after Victor. Yuuri had to respect him just for that; if he'd skated after Victor, he would have died. Chris always did fine no matter when he skated.

The stupid page finally loaded. His name was in first place. At the very least, he was getting bronze. (He was getting bronze. No way would either Victor or Chris fail, and they had too many points on him from the short.) Trembling, Yuuri collapsed on the nearest bench.

He was going to medal. He was going to stand on a podium next to Victor and take photos with Victor and maybe even get to say a congratulations _to Victor_. Probably Victor would congratulate him back.

It wasn't – it wasn't gold, but after yesterday, Yuuri was going to take what he could get. A medal.

Celestino had appeared again, sitting next to him. "You look like you're about to have a heart attack," he said. "Do you need anything?"

"I'm about to get a medal at my first Grand Prix Final," Yuuri said. His voice sounded very faint. "With Victor. And Chris. And Victor."

"I don't think many people were predicting that one. Shows what they know, eh?"

Yuuri clicked his phone on and stared at the message count, and the rapidly-rising number of mentions on his unused social media accounts. He clicked it off.

"I'm really happy for you, Yuuri," Celestino said. "I guess you figured out how to put yourself in the right mindset."

"Not really," he said. "Yuri Plisetsky yelled at me after my short. Something about how he didn't want to share a name with a loser."

Celestino's smile melted away into pure confusion. "He – what? And that _helped_?"

"I think it did?"

Celestino shook his head. "Don't envy Feltsman that one." He paused, and his look turned thoughtful. "Hm. It might not work a second time, but which of the juniors at Nationals do you think I could talk into cornering you if something goes wrong again?"

Yuuri couldn't help the laughter that spilled out at the thought of any of the juniors – who were either sweet, shy, or gregarious in expressing their puzzling admiration of him – pulling what Yuri had pulled. Once the laughter started, it was difficult to stop, but he managed to hold it back from becoming tears.

He held back the tears at the medal ceremony, too, shaking Chris's hand. Shaking Victor's hand, looking him in the eye for the first time ever _in real life_ (wow, they were such a pretty blue), and hearing his congratulations come out like something from a far distance, not from his own throat. Victor's smile didn't look as good in real life, but he had to be tired, so maybe that was to be expected.

Even Yuuri had been through more than a few medal ceremonies. This one, though, felt different. It stretched on forever as they played the Russian anthem; he could hear Victor murmuring the lyrics. The photographers' cameras went _click, click, click_ , endlessly. He smiled until his cheeks hurt, then clambered up on the center with Victor and Chris and smiled some more, and then someone handed him a Japanese flag to drape over his shoulders, and Chris insisted that they have a group hug for a photo, and he had never smiled this much in his life.

Then they were pulled off for the press conference. There were the usual kinds of questions that Yuuri had been coached to answer, but naturally, someone had to ask him about his comeback. He bit back an _um_ and took a moment to word his reply. "Another skater gave me a kind of pep talk after the short," he said. "It helped me get past it so I could focus on skating cleanly in the free. So I'm thankful for that."

He wondered if Yuri was going to read that somewhere. Maybe he'd get mad again. It would probably be funny to see, this kid throwing a tantrum because he'd accidentally helped someone he'd meant to tear down. Yuuri would have to remember to ask him about that 'loser' comment next time he saw him. And also thank him.

"A pep talk?" Chris asked afterward. Victor looked even more tired now, and had pulled out his phone. "If I'd known those would work, I would've tried to cheer you up at Skate America last year. Who was this kind, mysterious person? Can you say?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Victor and I can keep a secret," said Chris, putting on one of his charming looks. Yuuri had seen a lot of them. He still fell for it a little anyway.

"You really won't believe me," he said again. "It was Yuri. Other Yuri, the junior one."

Chris went wide-eyed. Victor's head snapped up. " _Yuri_ did?" he asked, his tone made of stark disbelief.

"I don't think he meant it as one," Yuuri said. "There was a lot of cursing."

"He yelled at you, didn't he? Oh, he's going to be _furious_ that he helped you," Victor said, looking delighted with this idea.

It was very late at this point; Yuuri had been half-hoping for an invitation out to drinks or something with the two of them, but Victor went off to find his coach, and Chris, yawning, wished him a good-night. Oh, well. He'd see them again at the gala, and the banquet. Maybe he could have a real conversation with Victor, then? It felt like both a lot to hope for and something more than achievable at the same time. A medal had seemed too much to hope for yesterday, after all, and yet here he was.

Back in his room, Yuuri called his parents. Everyone seemed overjoyed, no matter that he'd only taken bronze. The triplets screamed into the phone about how awesome they thought his program had been. Minako said he'd looked handsome standing there with Victor and Chris. Takeshi said that Yuuko had cried after his skate.

"I'll get gold at Nationals again this year," he told his parents when the phone was passed back to them. Last year had felt like a fluke, and the year before that good luck, with better competitors out of the picture for various reasons. Now he was the GPF bronze medalist. He could totally take on the other skaters in Japan, couldn't he?

"Then we'll definitely get you katsudon," his mom said.

"Or you should come home and visit, so you can have your mother's," said Dad.

"I'll see," Yuuri said, and then he said his good-byes. Afterward, he stared at the dark ceiling and reached out to touch the medal on the bedside table. It was cold, and real. He'd really done that.

The next day, the exhibition passed uneventfully. At the banquet afterward, Yuuri found himself with an unexpected amount of attention, as people kept coming up to congratulate him. The Japanese woman who had taken second place in the ladies, an ice dance couple he didn't know, judges, sponsors he couldn't remember at all.

Eventually, he escaped to the champagne table. Victor, of course, was the real center of attention, and surrounded as he was, it didn't look like there was much of a chance to talk with him at the moment.

"What do you think of the champagne?" Chris asked, sliding up to him. He raised his own glass, mostly empty, and tipped it a little.

"I pretty much only drink it at these things," Yuuri said. (Except when Phichit had bought a bottle for New Year's last year, insisting it was tradition. Yuuri still couldn't remember the rest of that night.) "It's okay."

"They never shell out for the good stuff," Chris said, clicking his tongue, and then he drained what was left of his glass. Yuuri did the same and set his glass aside. He didn't need to get drunk tonight. If he made a fool of himself in front of Victor, he didn't know how he'd ever make himself skate again.

The music selection here was decent, at least. A couple of people were dancing, not that well. Chris didn't look like he had anywhere else to be, and Yuuri knew that he knew how to dance.

So they ended up dancing. Chris was a fun partner, even if his hands wandered a lot, and he always grinned like he was having the time of his life. "You know," he whispered in Yuuri's ear at one point, "there's a pole on the other side of that room, if I'm remembering a few things correctly from Worlds."

Yuuri felt his face redden. " _Chris_!"

"No? You have to give me a private performance sometime, then."

Yuuri shook his head, smiling despite himself. That was when he noticed Victor – Victor, hovering nearby, peering at them curiously. Yuuri expected him to come forward, but he just stood there, phone cradled in his hand.

Was he looking for the right time to jump in? Yuuri didn't know what it was that made his courage come over him, but he broke away from Chris and approached Victor first, willing his blush to go down. "Would you like to dance?" he asked, holding out a hand.

Victor was smiling, suddenly. "Sure," he said. He put his phone away, and he put his hand in Yuuri's, and he let Yuuri – Yuuri, of all people – lead him into the growing dance floor.

On the ice, Victor was like nobody else. Off the ice, Yuuri found that he was actually the better dancer. He didn't have much attention to spare for being surprised, though; Victor didn't ask to stop after the first dance, or the second, or the fifth, or even the tenth. He never asked to stop at all, in fact, even as the banquet wound down and the number of people started to dwindle. And of course Yuuri didn't want to stop, now that he'd found his chance to enjoy some time with Victor. This was the best banquet he'd ever been to, and if Victor wasn't _quite_ as skilled as him, he could certainly keep up.

They only stopped when the music did. Chris was still there, taking photos of their last dance. Their coaches seemed to have disappeared.

"I've never met anyone who can dance like you," Victor said, out of breath. His smile was smaller than it had been during the medal ceremony, but different. Yuuri liked it.

"I'd say you wound me," Chris said, "except that I wholeheartedly agree. Honestly, I think this is the first time the judges saw it, too." He lowered his phone and whistled lowly as he looked at it, clearly scrolling through the pictures. "I don't suppose the two of you would be up for having some _real_ champagne in my room?"

So they went to Chris's room, and he poured champagne that, honestly, didn't taste any different to Yuuri. But the two of them agreed it was better. And despite the fact that it was the two of them who were friends, somehow the conversation went well enough. Yuuri talked more after the second glass. He thought about moving from sitting next to Chris on the one bed to sitting next to Victor on the other. Would that be weird? It would probably look weird.

"Haven't we been at a competition together before?" Victor eventually asked. "We must have. Worlds, at least. Or NHK?"

"Only Worlds," Yuuri said. He'd always been unlucky about his GPs not lining up with Victor's. "But we were in different groups, so...." So it didn't really count.

"But I've never seen you at the banquet before."

"I have," Chris said. "Ever since that year they sent me to junior Worlds even though I was already competing in seniors. Took you a while to get here, but what a performance when you did! I was so worried for you after the short, seeing how nervy you were."

"It wasn't really nerves," Yuuri said, staring at the champagne bubbles in his glass. (What number was this one, again?) "I actually felt pretty confident when we left. But then we got off the plane and my sister called and it turns out my dog died."

It took him a few seconds to realize that maybe he shouldn't have said that. Not until after he looked up and saw Chris's horrified look, and Victor with his hand at his mouth. Seeing them made a belated stab of grief go through his chest.

"Sorry, I – I'm sure you don't want to hear that kind of—"

"You poor thing," Chris breathed, and before Yuuri knew it, he was being hugged. Not in an oppressive way, like on that far-off day in the hospital when he'd been so worried for Phichit. Chris simply put an arm around his back, a hand squeezing his shoulder.

"And you still competed?" Victor asked. "I can't even imagine – and then coming back like that? Wow. I'm so sorry. If anything happened to Makkachin, I'd be a mess."

"Well, I was," Yuuri said with a shrug.

Chris squeezed his shoulder again. "Vicchan, right? I'm sorry, Yuuri. I remember you talking about him. He seemed like a nice dog."

If Victor noticed the similarity between his name and Vicchan's, he thankfully didn't comment. Just asked about him, and cooed appropriately when Yuuri showed him pictures, before showing off some of Makkachin. And then of course Chris wanted to prove how cute his cat was, and they avoided coming back to the topic of Vicchan. Which was fine. Yuuri wanted to enjoy tonight. He could be sad tomorrow.

They talked until all three of them were so tired that finding words and pronouncing them started to be difficult. Yuuri was still reluctant to peel himself away, but Victor was the first to rise to his feet and declare it was time for bed, and so Yuuri had to follow suit and return to his own room.

When he woke up in the early afternoon, he let himself laze around for a bit, since he had time before his flight. He thought about the dancing last night, the way that Victor had laughed when it was just the three of them, the cute crinkle he got in his forehead when he was confused that Yuuri hadn't seen on video or in pictures, Chris's warm hand on his shoulder. That had been fun. A lot of fun. It had been like they were friends.

He picked up his phone when it started ringing to reassure Celestino that, yes, he was up. After the call, he checked his messages, and was surprised to find that at the top was one from Victor. _Hi!_ read the first one, probably there so Yuuri could save his number, though he couldn't remember doing so. _Do you want to get lunch together? Chris can't make it, but I know a good place that's nearby!_ said the second, sent only ten minutes ago.

Yuuri stared at it, then rolled over on his back and pressed his hands to his face.

A couple of days ago, he'd thought this was going to be a complete failure of a competition, more proof that he wasn't really cut out for skating. Now he had a medal and he'd had dances with Victor and he had Victor's phone number and _Victor wanted to eat lunch together_ for some reason, like Yuuri was actually interesting enough to catch his attention.

He'd probably forget all about him by Worlds. But Yuuri couldn't pass up what might be his only chance to dine out with Victor, could he? He'd never forgive himself. Phichit would never forgive him. Yuuko would cry again if she ever knew.

He tapped out a reply, read and re-read it several times, then sent it, telling himself that his brain was being stupid for worrying about it. Then he leapt from his bed and flung open the curtains to let in the golden sunlight, and started getting dressed.

Yuuri had no idea what he was going to say (he definitely wasn't going to bring up Vicchan again – _why_ had he thought that was a good idea, he was never drinking that much again), and he didn't know why Victor wanted to eat with him. But he'd fought his way onto the podium with him, and he'd asked Victor to dance with him. Lunch couldn't be harder than skating that free program.

He took one last breath, pushed his hair back in the mirror, then rushed out the door. Maybe it would go fine, like in his teenage daydreams, and maybe at Worlds, Victor would smile when Yuuri asked to dance with him again.

**Author's Note:**

> [Prompt:](https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/344797.html?thread=2003221213#cmt2003221213) Instead of yelling at Yuuri after his Sochi free skate, Yuri yells at him after his short program. This actually distracts Yuuri from his competition anxiety and he has a really good free skate instead of falling apart - maybe even good enough to medal with Chris and Victor.


End file.
